More Wiwi!

More wiwi!

Drew this after finally finishing PD S2. Let's just say I was VERY impressed lmao.

ough i don't even watch hasan but caroline i loce your writing so much <33

What’re You After (Some Kind Of Disaster)

or: you and hasan are rivals for trivia night. Until one day, you come up with a plan.

tw/cursing, drinking

one of four miniseries

more hasan here

Thursday’s became your favorite day, easily.

cheap beer at your local pub, walking distance, and a chance to nerd out with your fellow classmates over a basket of too greasy fries.

everything would be perfect.

if it wasn’t for the other team.

the other team is everything you hate.

to begin with, when it’s a subject one of them know, they all have an elaborate hand shake they do, some kind of loud cheer and high fives passed around the table, clapping each other on the shoulders-

and they always looked over at your table, smaller, but crowded, elbow to elbow with your friends, poured over the piece of paper with the questions on them-

they were polar opposites, acted like this was some kind of event they stumbled into, by accident and oops became the top team.

they were cocky, and your team was determined to knock them down a few pegs.

You come in early to steal their table.

it’s petty, at the very least, but part of a strategy you and your best friend Sarah, spent the week planning. Anything to throw them off their game, to confuse them.

you walk in straighter than usual, shoulders squared, ready to proudly take the table in the corner, right by the trivia hosts stand-

and the son of the bitch is already there.

you can’t remember his name. you try to not remember your enemies name, but if you thought really hard about it, you could swear it was something with a ‘H’. Henry, maybe? No, that’s not right. it was a name you hadn’t heard before-

you get into the threshold of the door and his eyes meet yours with a smirk, sets his pen down and takes his glasses off, eyes narrow as he picks up his drink and takes a sip.

bastard.

you duck your head and walk to the normal table, about to text Sarah to abort the plan, when you slide into the seat, ready for it to be over-

“were you trying to take our table?”

you jump when you hear his voice, fumble with your phone, don’t want him to get the satisfaction of seeing your face red-

“Why would we want your stupid fuckin’ table?” you call back, not looking at him as you open a text to Sarah: “it’s not the table that’s making you win.”

he laughs, appears at your table, “That’s right. it’s skill.”

“skill is putting it generously. cheating, is the running theory-“

“You all think we’re smart enough to cheat? flattered, truly. This seat taken?” he asks, pulling out the wooden stool but not sitting.

“is-is this your fucked up way to try and psych the opposing team out?” a smirk falls on your lips and you hope it covers for the red on your face, “are you all threatened by us?”

you try to ignore the hurt evident on his face.

“Oh, just like trying to steal our table, yeah?” he pushes the stool in. “Good luck tonight, you all will need it.”

and he stalks back to his table.

okay, so you sort of feel like a dick, yes.

he seems the most reserved out of the table, like he accidentally stumbled into this group of people. sure, he shares the high fives and whatnot, but when they huddle together, the rare times they do, he always seems on the border, on the outside looking in.

you turn in your seat, ready to offer the seat up again but his glasses are back on the crook of his nose and he’s poured over a book-

luckily, the rest of your team meets up before the guilt can really eat at you, something for later tonight, when your seconds from sleep, to keep you up, is when you’ll remember this-

Annie slides in across from you.

“So,” she begins talking right away, picking up your glass of water and drinking immediately without asking. Annie talks a million miles an hour, loudly, and everyone else is simply along for the ride, “I did some research on pen names, but like, fuck, what an absolute rabbit hole that was. Did you order food yet?”

she continues talking, mostly about ordering food for the table, and your half listening as his table fills in behind you. (Was it an H on second thought? is it? wade?)

“those bastards are going down.” is the first thing Sarah says when she comes in, her book back is overflowing as usual, and she has three different pens and two pencils in the bin of her hair- “i brought my lucky charm.”

Annie groans comically, “Sarah, they already don’t take us seriously. they’re going to take us less seriously if you take your stupid fucking glass elephant out-“

“hey!” Sarah narrows her eyes, “we don’t talk bad about him. no disrespect. Here, now he’s pointing at you. Look of shame. take that in, babe.” as she turns it towards her.

“this is why they don’t take us seriously,” you groan, rubbing your forehead, “Henry or wade or whatever the fuck- saw me try and steal their table.”

“Henry?” Sarah says at the exact time as Annie says: “William?” with disgust.

their heads whip around to the other table, catch him looking at you and they duck further in their seats before turning to you: “His name is Hasan-“

“are you fraternizing with the enemy, you son of a bitch?” Annie says immediately, and her voice is loud enough you throw a used napkin at her in hopes it doesn’t draw more attention to her.

“i’m not fraternizing with anyone. keep your voice down, jesus christ.” you groan, “he just saw i tried to take the table and talked to me, briefly.”

“Spill.” Sarah says immediately, “Did he say anything that we could use against him? Did he admit to cheating?”

“The complete opposite,” you sigh, tearing at your napkin, feeling like a dick again. “He asked to sit down and i all but shooed him away. He looked like a beaten dog.”

Annie and Sarah look at each other from the corner of their eyes, a shared look with a smirk.

“what?” you groan, “i hate that look. what?”

annie and sarah both lean in at the same time, almost hitting heads with you, “listen. we have an idea, okay-“

Sarah interrupts, “and listen to the whole thing before you shoot it down.”

“Ask him out.”

You snort. it’s loud, and ugly, and if your mother was here, she’d grip her necklace and glare at you about how ladies act in public-

“Yeah!” Annie says, “Listen. Okay. you ask him out. distract the other team so he’s so lovesick or busy or whatever that he misses or the team falls apart.”

you shake your head, “y’all are out of your god damn minds-“

“Hasan!” Annie breaks from the huddle, waves him over, “cmere.”

“Annie, no. you son of a bitch-“

Hasan was drawing in his notebook, wasn’t paying much attention to his small group, narrows his eyes, but obeys, stalks over.

“If you all want a truce, i already tried to make one with this one here earlier,” he teases, jams his thumb at you. “and the answer was a loud no.”

“That’s only cause they wanted to ask you out for a drink after,” annie takes the lead, “to celebrate”

“celebrate?” Hasan smirks.

“either way it goes, a drink on us.” Annie insists.

his eyes narrow, not sold yet.

“How about this, if you win, you two get a drink together. our treat. if we win, we’ll leave you and your team alone.”

he snorts, “didn’t you win a certificate last week for longest running streak of not winning?”

“dick.” you say gently under your breath, but he doesn’t hear it.

he shakes his head, “yknow what? deal. I could always use a drink.”

and he sticks his hand in the middle of the table, annie going for the shake but he ignores it, shakes it off, ducks his head so he’s looking at you: “it’s a deal, yeah? c’mon.”

you hesitate long enough for annie and sarah to both kick your shins under the table and you sit up a little straighter, swallow all the pride you have: “it’s a deal.” as you tighten your hand around his.

he doesn’t see the smirks and shared glances the three of you share.

We Were (Never) Meant To Be

prince!Charlie Slimecicle x lady-in-waiting!reader

Synopsis: You attempt to get your lady (and best friend) and your ex-boyfriend together.

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 955

A/N: This is based off an original story and character that came to me suddenly. There’s a whole lot of backstory (let me know if you want more?), but I just really wanted an excuse to write this scene out. Writing for Charlie is just an excuse to write out my original plots.

masterlist

You’re surveying the crowd occupying the palace garden with careful eyes. It wasn’t rare for the royal family to open their palace grounds for a festival, but it wasn’t the most frequent either.

Your eyes slide over to a prince with messy brown hair standing at the other side of the garden. He’s standing with his friends – other young noblemen – with a glass of champagne. The sun glints off the golden embroidery of his dark green dress shirt, emphasising the royalty that he is.

When you glance back up to his face, you’re suddenly locking gazes with the prince. Jolting, you turn away from him, ignoring how your heart still flutters when you stare into his eyes.

Letting out a breath, you nudge Princess Amelia, your best friend and your boss, gently with your elbow, saying, “You should go talk to him.”

Amelia pauses in her movements. She had been dancing with one of your other friends who was a noblewoman. Her lavender dress swishes around her legs as it is carried by the light breeze.

She raises an eyebrow at you and says, “You should go talk to him.”

You resist a flinch, but the hair on the back of your neck stands.

“As your lady-in-waiting, I am tasked to remind you that the two of you are betrothed,” you reply lowly, hands clamped together in front of the waist band of your lady-in-waiting uniform. It was a dark blue dress simpler than the nobles would wear, but fancier than most maids to signify your status as the princess’ right hand.

“Your parents would be disappointed if you don’t get together by the end of the week.”

“And as your lady,” she teases and begins swaying again, “I say that I don’t care about the betrothal. I’ve already told my parents that, and you know that too.”

You don’t match the teasing grin that she has, nor the light tone of her voice.

As your king and your queen, we command you to bring Princess Amelia and Prince Charles together as a couple according to the betrothal by the end of the festival week. You will face the consequences of your actions should you fail to do so.

“Mels,” you say quietly, a nickname only you and a few others got to call the princess, “disobeying the king and queen would be treason.”

“I’m literally their daughter.”

“For me.”

Amelia stops swaying, her demeanour turning serious.

“Did they say something to you?”

“They just gave me instructions – ”

“Did they threaten you?”

“Who threatened who?” says a familiar voice.

You flinch, turning around quickly to face Charlie. Prince Charlie. Prince Charlie who was kind, sweet, funny, and charming. Prince Charlie who was betrothed to Princess Amelia.

Prince Charlie whom you broke up with two years ago and haven’t talked to since.

“My parents threatened Y/N to get us together by the end of the week,” says Amelia before you can stop her.

Charlie’s eyebrows raise in disbelief.

“What?”

“They didn’t threaten me,” you lie through your teeth, stepping away from the man who had appeared behind you and refusing to look at him directly. “I’m just doing my job.”

“No,” scoffed Amelia, “you’re being a bad friend.”

“And you’re lying,” says Charlie at the same time.

You shoot him a glare, cursing him silently. Damn him for still remembering your tells.

Taking a quick glance around, you check for anyone listening in to your conversation. Your friend who was dancing with Amelia was now conversing with Charlie’s friends, sending the three of you occasional glances, but besides them, no one else seemed interested in your conversation.

“The fact is that you are betrothed to each other,” you deadpan. “You need to start dating publicly or – ”

“Or our parents will come after you?” questions Charlie, his arms now crossed over his chest. “You’re the one who broke up with me, I think they should be thanking you.”

You flinch again as Amelia comes to your defence.

“Charlie, don’t be mean.”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. Reflexively, you reach up to adjust the jewellery around her braids, but she bats your hand away.

“I know you guys haven’t talked in two years, so maybe now is the time to do so. Maybe that is what can change our parents’ minds – ”

“Just drop it, Mels, please?” you plead with your best friend. “It’s not important.”

“What’s not important?” asks Charlie with a heated tone as he takes a step closer to you. “I wasn’t important to you? Our relationship wasn’t important to you?”

Suddenly, his hand shoots out to grab one of yours, pulling your hands apart. You hadn’t realised that you had started picking at your cuticles nervously. Something electric shoots up your arm from where his hand holds yours. His gaze softens, and you can’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Please,” he says softly. “Can we talk?”

You’re about to answer him when you see Amelia’s parents – the king and queen of the land – approach your trio from behind Charlie.

“Prince Charles! How nice it is to see you today,” the king begins to say.

You don’t catch the rest as you take advantage of Charlie’s distractedness to slip your hand out of his grip.

“I will prepare your gown for the evening, Your Highness,” you rush out to Amelia, ignoring her as she starts to call for you to stay.

Then, you’re rushing out of the garden and back into the palace, away from the king and queen, and your best friend and ex-boyfriend.

You miss the sceptical looks from the king and queen.

You miss the worried glance Amelia casts you. You miss Charlie’s longing gaze.

i need charlie, ranboo, condi and sneeg to NEVER stream together again /j the vibes need to be reset, my brain needs to be wiped and i think i need therapy because of this stream. something is in the air today and it is not oxygen

read an old draft i had for an sbi fic and now i miss sbi again (is it time to go back down the sbi fic hole?)

redraw (original under the cut)